The Memories Echo
by Wjiaei
Summary: The new Active, River, is bombarded with memories not her own. What do they mean? Who is Echo? Who is Alpha? River decides to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**Random Dollhouse story :)**

**Everything is from the genious Joss Whedon. (I think I spelled genious wrong...) **

Chapter 1

Active: River

Imprint: Alison

I blinked and opened my eyes as the chair I was sitting on gently tilted up. I loved my treatments. I was calm and peaceful for a few moments before getting excited; today was the day I got to go on my first date with Brian Martin! He was the guy _everyone_ crushed on in middle school. I'd been crushing on him since sixth grade!

I glanced around at the treatment room. The confusing-looking machines beeped like always, and Chris, the guy who ran them was bent over one. Mark, the man who always took care of me when I came in for treatments, and notified me when I needed another, smiled at me. It was a kind smile, but it didn't reach his deep brown eyes.

"Hello Riv—Alison," he greeted, "how are you feeling?"

What had he been about to call me? Mark knew me ever since I'd started getting treatments—almost seven years ago! "I feel great!" I responded excitedly, "Wait! What time is it? I have to meet Brian!"

"Don't worry, Alison, you have plenty of time," Mark seemed slightly annoyed and impatient, "Let's go get you an outfit!"

That was another reason I liked coming in for treatments; a free outfit every time! "On the house" the lady always said when she helped me pick out one.

"Oh, and Alison," Chris turned from the machine, finger in the air, "You're going to need another treatment right after your date with… who is it again?"

"Brian," I replied dreamily.

"Ah, yes. So right after your date with Brian, find Mark and come immediately back here," He instructed.

"Alright," I agreed, "I enjoy my treatments."

Mark and Chris shared a worried look. Topher was about to say something, but Mark beat him to it, "Ready to go, Alison?" He offered me his large, calloused hand, and helped me from the chair.

He led me to the elevator, a plush, silent thing. I was usually slightly claustrophobic, and didn't like elevators, but this one didn't scare me. We walked down several identical, whitewashed hallways before entering a room full of people trying on different outfits. Sort of like a boutique.

I knew the drill. I left Mark to sit by the other _handlers_ and… Wait, handlers? What does that mean? Where did I hear that? Why did I think of that?

I shrugged it off and followed the nicely-dressed lady into the giant, dimly-lit clothing warehouse. They showed me different outfits before I settled on a tight, purple wrap dress that showed off my tiny waist and made my irritatingly small chest look fuller. I wore bright red heels that increased my measly five foot two height to five foot six. I held a red clutch and chunky red bracelets clinked on my skinny wrist.

I inspected myself in the mirror and had to agree that I looked _good_. My rib-length thin blonde hair was tied into a flared bun. My pale blue eyes looked mysterious and dangerous accentuated with dramatic eyeliner and mascara.

Mark looked surprised when I returned from the dressing room, feeling slightly uncomfortable in the tight dress.

"Ready, Alison?" Mark held out his suited arm, as if we were going on a prom date. He helped me back into an elevator and then into a black van.

"Is this really how we're getting to a five-star restaurant?" I chided.

"It's quite classy," Mark reassured me.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, "I'm just nervous about the date."

"Don't be," he comforted me, "It will be… perfect."

I nodded. The windows were spray-painted, so no one could see out or in. The driver eventually slid to a stop and Mark helped me from the van. The street was dark and not many people were on it. A club boomed in the distance and a few loose papers blew down the street.

"This? This is where I'm meeting Brian?" I questioned accusingly.

"Don't worry Alison. Do you trust me?" Mark asked teasingly.

"With my life," I replied automatically.

Mark then smiled and pulled the van's door closed. The driver peeled away, producing exhaust to blow in front of me, causing a dramatic effect as Brian walked up.

His hair was long and shaggy, a dark brown color. His eyes were glittering blue. "Alison," he breathed softly, then coughed. "What's with all the smoke?" He laughed.

"I don't know," I giggled, "They drop me off and just leave!"

"You look amazing," he smiled, his white teeth shining in the dark.

"Same with you," I grabbed his brown jacket, pulling him closer to me.

"Ready to go?" He asked, wrapping his arms around my waist. We linked arms and he pulled me a little further down the street, and then down a darker alley.

"Bri—Brian?" I asked nervously.

"Trust me," He smiled mischievously. He pulled open a dark, rusty door and stepped inside, closing it behind us. The room was completely black, I couldn't see anything. The only thing I could feel was Brian's hand around my waist.

Suddenly, he pushed back some sort of curtain, revealing a beautiful restaurant. The seats were as dark as a shadow, the tables were ebony, and candles were set everywhere to create a romantic, dramatic effect.

A man in a midnight blue suit came up to us, smiling. "Hello," he greeted, "Two?"

Brian nodded, "Table in the back, please."

"Right this way," He led us to the back.

Back here was darker and dustier than the rest of the restaurant, but I liked it. Brian and I sat down across from each other, a waxy, yellow candle between us. The man handed us each a menu, then sauntered away. The menu was as black as the seats, with white swirly print. For some reason it reminded me of a ghost.

Suddenly, my head exploded with pain. I cried out and dropped the menu, five words coming to mind. _You can't catch a ghost._ I opened my eyes to see Brian leaning forward, touching my arm gently. My hand was pressed to the side of my head, as if that would calm my throbbing head. Then, the pain slowly subsided until it was only a dull ache.

"I-I'm fine," I promised, "So… uh, how'd you find this place?"

Brian looked shaken, but decided to drop it, "A friend told me about it. Top notch."

"What's good?" I asked, cautiously glancing back at the menu.

"The_ spaghettis au fromage_," Brian suggested.

"Okay," I agreed, afraid to look back down at the menu.

As Brian ordered, I thought about the strange words that I had thought of when I'd got my sudden headache. _You can't catch a ghost._ What did _that_ mean? I had a distinct memory of someone being kidnapped, and a beautiful brunette saying the words. I don't remember anyone _I _knew getting kidnapped when I was younger. Why had I thought of those words?

"So…" Brian had finished ordering, and was trying to make conversation.

"I… uh, haven't seen you since high school," I started, "how've you been doing?"

"I've been going to college here in LA., Westwood College," Brian explained. "Uh… how about you?" He asked, looking uncomfortable. "Ha, ha," Brian laughed uncomfortably. He _did _think I was a stalker. "I'm studying to be a science teacher."

"Cool," I replied.

"What—what else do you remember about me?" He sat forward, chin on his hand, looking interested.

"I—You were the most _popular_ guy at our school. I've—I've had a crush on you since like… seventh grade," I blurted out, a nervous laugh following.

"Really?" He smiled, looking surprised.

"Yeah," I looked down at my hands, "You—you never even looked at me though. You had you're 'perfect' girlfriend; Amy."

"Amy? I don't remember her! Tell me about her," Brian looked attentive and happy.

"A—Amy? You don't remember her?" I asked, incredulous, "You guys were together for like three years!"

"I don't. The only girl on my mind right now—and well, for the past few weeks—has been… you."

"Really?" I looked up, excited, and saw his teasing face. "Oh shut up!" I laughed, and punched his arm playfully.

He smiled, "No, really! But, honestly, tell me about this 'Amy' chick. I've got no idea who she is."

"She was like, tall and… skinny. She had bright red hair. You truly don't remember her? You guys had a nasty breakup," I explained, using my hands to talk.

Brian laughed, "Nasty? Like how bad?"

"She, uh…" I paused, "Weird, I—I don't remember."

Brian's smile faded, "What—what do you mean?"

"I don't remember. But the whole school was, like, talking about it for like two weeks!" I tried to get Brian's easy smile back.

He gave a half-hearted one. "Really?" He asked snidely, mocking me.

Suddenly, a guy walked through the curtain.

I don't know why it bothered me, lots of people had been walking through the curtains. But this one, he was… different. I felt like I'd seen him before. _Alpha_, popped into my head.

Alpha?

I glanced at the man. He was tall and slightly muscular, with dark yellow hair and blue eyes. He wore loose-fitting pants and a blank blue t-shirt. He looked completely out of place in the fancy restaurant. Why did he give me a creepy feeling?

He saw me and randomly started walking over. I quickly looked away, back at Brian, trying to get back into the conversation.

The man eventually reached our table and put a rough hand on my bare shoulder. I started, nearly falling out of my chair. Brian jumped up, "Hey! What are you doing?"

"Where's Echo?" The man hissed into my ear, "Where is she?"

_Echo? Who's Echo?_ I asked in my head, but no sound came out of my mouth. Suddenly, men in black burst through the curtain, nearly ripping it apart. They came straight for us, for the man grabbing my shoulder. They grabbed him by the arms, hauling him away from me. A woman asked him in as calm a voice as she could manage, "Would you—you like a treatment, O-Omega?"

The man suddenly went calm, "I enjoy my treatments."

Mark ran up to me, "Alison! You must come with me, _now_!"

"What—what's going on?" I asked.

"Sorry, Brian," Mark talked over my head, "You'll get fifty percent back." Fifty percent of what?

"Wait!" I heard Brian call as Mark pulled me from the restaurant.

"Please, Mark! Tell me what's going on!" I pleaded as we drove back to the place where I got my treatments.

"No time, you need a treatment," Mark replied, marching me to the elevators.

I felt suddenly calm, "I would like a treatment, please."

"Of—of course," Mark seemed shaken.

A woman helped me dress and I sat in the chair. It lowered slowly and I gave Mark and Topher a big grin as the fluorescent blue light shined around my head.

I felt it pulling at my memories. I tried desperately to hold onto them, but they slipped away like water cupped in your palm. Brian, talking to me, the odd words I'd thought of, the Alpha/Omega man, they were all snatched away in a single second. My last thought was; _is this what it feels like to die?_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Active: Brasa

Imprint: Annabelle

The treatment chair gently tipped upwards. I smiled, feeling refreshed after my treatment.

"Hello, Annabelle… how are you feeling?" a man asked with a snide smirk on his face, his shaggy dirty blonde hair tossed in front of his dark blue eyes.

"Fine, thank you," I replied in a clipped tone, refusing his hand to help me up. After I had risen, I instantly took a ponytail from the second man there and restrained my wild, curly red hair into a bun at the back of my head.

"Annabelle, we need you to…" The man glanced towards the glass door, "Well, you know."

"Yes," I replied, "You briefed me on the way in."

"Then… uh, let's go." He offered me his arm, but I refused and instead led the way out into the spa. I quickly walked across the overhanging passage, when a tiny, petite blonde stepped in front of me.

"Brasa?" She asked, her pale blue eyes wide, a worried look on her face.

"My name is Annabelle," I told her gently. Alan had told her that they had some "mental" patients at the Treatment Center.

"No!" The girl squealed like a child, "You're name is Brasa."

"Okay," I decided to just agree; that would be best for her. The doctors would help her later.

"Annabelle, Addie really needs you," Alan had passed me and then returned in complaint. Then saw who I was talking to, "Oh, not you, River," He seemed annoyed.

"I'm going to go swim in the pool now," The girl—River—informed him. Her demeanor changed drastically. Before, when she had been speaking to me, she was urgent and worried, but now she seemed calm and content.

"Yes, why don't you go do that, River." Then Alan turned towards me, "Addie really needs you, Annabelle. Shall we go?"

"Yes, yes, of course," I replied, trying to shake the odd familiarity of the word 'Brasa', which from my training I knew meant 'ember' in Gaelic. I continued to follow Alan down the hall, and a second elevator, trying not to look back at River.

When we got out of the elevator, we were in a luxurious office. The windows were floor to ceiling, displaying a breathtaking view of the city. A desk was slightly elevated above a sitting area with a small bar in the corner. A woman in a black pencil skirt and a thin, brightly colored blouse was sitting at the desk. When we entered she swung herself around in her chair and smiled at us.

"Hello, Annabelle," She greeted warmly. Why did everyone keep saying my name?

"Hello… Addie, right?" I replied.

"Yes," Addie replied. She was tall and thin, a little bony. She had long curly dark auburn hair and light blue eyes.

"They've been telling me you need me?" I asked.

"Yes," Addie replied, "They tell me you are a… tracker?" She asked the last part with a slight smile.

"Indeed," I agreed, "What is it you want me to do?"

"I want you to track…"—she turned, grabbing something from her desk—"This man." She held up a picture of a pale, muscular man with short-cropped dirty blonde hair and light brown eyes.

I took it from her and looked closer, "any other information? Where he was last seen? Fingerprints even?"

"Not much," Addie warned, "All we have is where he was last seen."

I rubbed my hands together, "Sounds like fun."

"He was last seen in Twin Lakes, Colorado. A young man was killed there a few days ago."

"And what… is his name?" I asked, sitting in a chair, still examining his picture.

"We call him… Omega. We don't even know his real name," Addie looked slightly ashamed. "We have files from a… previous doll—Treatment Center, but it's not… helpful," Addie replied carefully.

"Sounds good," I finished, slipping the picture of the man into the briefcase that a girl walked in and gave me.

"Oh, and one more thing," Addie said smoothly, "You will not be able to travel to Colorado. You will have to do this entire operation from this room."

I sighed in annoyance. "No problem, just a minor setback. More fun for me," I muttered sarcastically.

Addie gestured to the desk, "It's all yours."

I sat, typing in: MURDER IN TWIN CITIES, COLORADO. Asking casually, "Why do you need to track him?"

"Well, for the obvious reason," Addie gestured impatiently at the screen, "He murdered someone!"

"Isn't that what the police are for?"

"Perhaps. Let's just say we are doing a… favor for someone."

I decided not to ask anymore, she definitely wasn't going to tell me.

After a few hours of searching, I finally snapped, "I don't see how we can do this without actually _going_ there."

"Fine," Addie hissed back, "But after your treatment." Addie was obviously just as frustrated as me, but it was so nice of her to offer me a treatment.

I smiled, excited for my treatment, "Once I get my treatment I'll feel very refreshed."

"Yeah, yeah," She shooed me away impatiently and Alan came in to escort me.

"I'll see you later, Addie," I gave a little, uncharacteristic wave as I left.

Alan escorted be back to the treatment room and I sat in the chair. All my worries were about to go away. And so was Annabelle. Wait what? _I'm _Annabelle, how am I going away if I'm just getting a treatment? I sat up quickly, afraid.

"Is something wrong, Annabelle?" The man who gives me treatments turns around, irritated.

"Do—do you mind if I have my treatment later?" I wondered, forcing my voice steady.

"I think it'd be better if you got it now," Chris reassured me.

"I—I need to help A—Addie," I insisted.

"You _can_ help her. Just after you get a treatment." The people here were so nice. But I really didn't want a treatment right now. But I do. I enjoy my treatments. No I don't. They kill you. But I enjoy my treatments. They're fun. They make me feel good. No they don't! The internal battle completely confused me. My head said; _I enjoy my treatments_. But my gut said; _the treatments kill you._

In the end, when I couldn't trust myself, I turned to Alan. "Do you think I should get a treatment right now?" I asked.

"Yes," he nodded, his eyes wide and sincere. So I believed him and leaned back in the chair.

As the florescent blue light clicked on I knew I'd made a mistake. I don't like my treatments. I hate them! They _kill _you! So as the chair ripped my memories out of my head and plunged my mind into darkness, I screamed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry, this chapter is really short. I just wanted you to see the conversation between Addie and Dominic. I didn't think anything else would be as important.**

Chapter 3

Addie Dew

Head of Dollhouse

As the door closed behind "Annabelle", Addie gave a disgusted shake of her head. "Well that was a waste of time," She grumbled, turning back to her computer. A Google search was open, and the search bar read; MURDER IN TWIN LAKES, COLORADO. "Annabelle" and Addie had been searching for almost two hours with no luck. According to her sources, the murder had happened three or four days ago, so it would've been on the news by now. For whatever reason, Twin Lakes, Colorado was keeping quiet.

"Addie?" A man poked his head in.

Addie turned, startled. She tried to return to her calm demeanor as fast as she could, hoping Dominic didn't notice. "Yes, Dominic?" She asked, smoothing her hair.

"How did it go? Did Brasa work as Annabelle?" He asked.

Addie sighed, "Of course she worked. But we couldn't find anything. There's nothing on the news in Twin Lakes. Or even Colorado whatsoever."

Dominic nodded, understanding. He was head of security so he knew all about trying to track down Omega. "Omega is very good at finding a way to keep things quiet. He'll do anything. He wants us off his trail. I think he has something big planned."

"Should we get Brasa imprinted with a better tracker? Or we could send her to Colorado," Addie suggested.

Dominic shook his head, "We shouldn't send Brasa after him. We found something else out about the man he killed."

"What is it?" Addie asked, feeling on edge after her pointless, stressful hour.

"He was an ex-active."

"Who?" She gasped worriedly.

"As an active his name was Red, but his real name is… was Alexander Meyers," Dominic informed Addie, glancing down at the file in his hand.

"Oh dear," Addie's hand fluttered around her chest, "Do you think he'll go after any other ex-actives? Omega always seems to have a pattern… and a purpose."

Dominic shrugged, "Perhaps. We should wait and see. Rushing to bring in all of our ex-actives might not be the best idea right now. If it seems that their lives are in danger we should help. But not yet."

Addie nodded sharply, trying to calm herself again. Put on a face for the next client, "Can you send my three o'clock in?" She instructed, glancing at her watch, "I believe I'm a little late…"

"He's an odd one isn't he?" Dominic chuckled.

"Now, now," Addie scolded teasingly, a small smirk on her face, "There's no judging in the Dollhouse."


End file.
